<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942</id><updated>2012-01-28T07:50:52.795-06:00</updated><title type='text'>joli jorgenson</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>26</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-1884903782891383517</id><published>2011-09-23T22:11:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T22:13:45.092-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Crafting</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SfrZP2D8eFA/Tn1Kxq4t5JI/AAAAAAAAACw/KRTVA2KeiuI/s1600/photo.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SfrZP2D8eFA/Tn1Kxq4t5JI/AAAAAAAAACw/KRTVA2KeiuI/s320/photo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655758924233434258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
This is my first attempt at the pine cone swag.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-1884903782891383517?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/1884903782891383517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=1884903782891383517' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/1884903782891383517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/1884903782891383517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2011/09/crafting.html' title='Crafting'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SfrZP2D8eFA/Tn1Kxq4t5JI/AAAAAAAAACw/KRTVA2KeiuI/s72-c/photo.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-8219852573148199985</id><published>2010-02-27T08:39:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-27T09:03:07.549-06:00</updated><title type='text'>2-27-10</title><content type='html'>Allison and Zachary are so fun. Listening to their conversations, their pretend play, and they even do a good job taking care of each other. The other night I was cooking dinner and from the kitchen, I hear Alli tell Z "You know the funnest part about Heaven is you get to go there in an airplane ride!"  She was so excited about it and so serious too. They are also going through a phase where they call Gatoraide "Gatoraider". They used to call it "Alligator", but for some reason have switched to calling it "Gatoraider". Funny! Zachary and Allison both had RSV a couple of weeks ago. Zachary's turned into Pneumonia. He has been taking 3 breathing treatments a day and a high powered antibiotic once daily. Neither one of them has been quite themselves lately. It is miserable to have sick kiddos. I haven't been feeling to well either. I have a sinus infection which I probably got from them having RSV. Anyway, the Dr. said the extreme dizziness I have been experiencing is from sinus pressure on my ears. I actually ran into the wall a couple of times. I would be funny, if it wasn't so scary that it might be something more serious. It also makes me feel a little nauseous. By the end of the day yesterday, I hit the door running to make it to the Dr. before the take their last patient. I got a shot and 2 perscriptions, which I actually haven't gotten filled yet. I hate being sick almost as much as I hate the kids being sick. Well, I am rambling now about nothing interesting,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-8219852573148199985?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/8219852573148199985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=8219852573148199985' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/8219852573148199985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/8219852573148199985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2010/02/2-27-10.html' title='2-27-10'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-5526447658563367148</id><published>2010-02-15T17:52:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T17:59:26.982-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Zachary is FUNNY!</title><content type='html'>So Alli is in here room screaming for someone to come help her clean. Zachary laying in the other room screams back " Ask Jesus!"

Walking down the isle at Walmart, Zachary says "Hey Mom, that guy was older. Mom, that guy was older. MOM, THAT GUY WAS OLDER!" I say "Yes, Zachary, but it is not very nice to say that about people." He replies "Mom, I just said he was older, not OLD!"

"If you are a girl you have cat eyes. If you are a boy, you have dog eyes."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-5526447658563367148?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/5526447658563367148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=5526447658563367148' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/5526447658563367148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/5526447658563367148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2010/02/zachary-is-funny.html' title='Zachary is FUNNY!'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-7952975746799942138</id><published>2010-02-03T21:33:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-03T21:51:08.507-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to Blogging</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2pEIsNVChI/AAAAAAAAACU/S74UTOAwODU/s1600-h/S4010247.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434230816472631826" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2pEIsNVChI/AAAAAAAAACU/S74UTOAwODU/s320/S4010247.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Well, yesterday I said I was going to start this today, so here goes. I am really worried right now about a couple of things. First, is my grandma. She is having an angioplasty in the morning. They are going to try to do stints at that time and I am praying they are able to do that and then she will be able to come home on Friday. I love my grandma. The second thing is that Alli is still really sick. She went to the Dr. on Thursday and they said she had a sinus infection. They gave us all these medicines and they don't seem to be working because she is in her room right now coughing like crazy. I don't know what to do about her. I just want her to be well too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-7952975746799942138?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/7952975746799942138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=7952975746799942138' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/7952975746799942138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/7952975746799942138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2010/02/back-to-blogging.html' title='Back to Blogging'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2pEIsNVChI/AAAAAAAAACU/S74UTOAwODU/s72-c/S4010247.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-600490793629279501</id><published>2010-02-02T22:51:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-02T22:54:20.387-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am going to try really hard to start blogging more often. The kids do and say some of the funniest stuff and this is the easiest way to share and save it. So I am going to be doing a lot more blogging...starting tomorrow because this is the latest I have been up in forever. Time for bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-600490793629279501?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/600490793629279501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=600490793629279501' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/600490793629279501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/600490793629279501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-am-going-to-try-really-hard-to-start.html' title=''/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-3462062135418954577</id><published>2009-06-04T23:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T23:53:28.681-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Long Story, Extremely Short Version</title><content type='html'>I went to Deal Time today to pick up some stuff my mother bought. She has been stuck in the house for over two months so she buys crap from there. Even though by now you would think she would've learned her lesson. It's all broken used junk, but that is for another story. I went in there and stood for probably 5 minutes before I was ever acknowledged. That is not to say I wasn't seen because I was, by 4 of the 5 men who where in the room and the 1 womanas they were talking amongst themselves and having a grand time going thru tonights crap. That is when the 5th man picked up an air pellet gun from the table. And, I thought "surely, he won't" just as he did. Without looking around to survey his surroundings, he began shooting the gun, not at anyone or anything. He was just shooting everywhere and some of the pellets ricochetted over and it me in the legs. I was not hurt, more just like shocked and appalled that someone would be so careless. That is when the woman began walking over to help me and he shot her. She was very tough. She continued over and as she was standing in front of me the whelp that the pellet left reddened and doubled in size. She said "Wow, that really hurt" I said " You better be glad it did not hit me" At that point, I thought it had stopped, because the gunman had realized there was a customer in the building. But, was shortly surprised again when now the group of employees huddled together and began shooting the gun across the room. And, once again I was hit by ricochetting pellets and had retreated to the corner. After the woman had gathered all of my mom's stuff, I began carrying it to the car and it was on one of the 4 trips back and forth to the car with no offer of help from one of the six employees of this "fine" business, that they had begun shooting each other at close range with the gun to see how bad it hurt. It was just an incredibly ridiculous situation that I would have never intentionally put myself in. And, I am so thankful that the "gunman" did not blindly turn around and shoot in my direction, which could have easily been the case. And, this was the shortened version.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-3462062135418954577?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/3462062135418954577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=3462062135418954577' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/3462062135418954577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/3462062135418954577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2009/06/long-story-extremely-short-version.html' title='Long Story, Extremely Short Version'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-6276801277068737639</id><published>2009-05-07T09:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T09:49:21.241-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/SgL05wTS6GI/AAAAAAAAABk/FsyqL3zIEfo/s1600-h/IMG_2936.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333094181815642210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/SgL05wTS6GI/AAAAAAAAABk/FsyqL3zIEfo/s320/IMG_2936.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div&gt;This is just a pic of my "Big Girl' this morning before school. She is growing so much and is so sweet. On the way to school, she told me that sometimes she cries for me while she is there. Broke me heart so I caved and am going to pick her up early today. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-6276801277068737639?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/6276801277068737639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=6276801277068737639' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/6276801277068737639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/6276801277068737639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2009/05/this-is-just-pic-of-my-big-girl-this.html' title=''/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/SgL05wTS6GI/AAAAAAAAABk/FsyqL3zIEfo/s72-c/IMG_2936.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-2093436484828313544</id><published>2009-05-07T07:57:00.016-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T15:12:47.334-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Good News</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/SgMD2Y2lKUI/AAAAAAAAABs/0zYzWVp_jE4/s1600-h/IMG_2927.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333110616655997250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/SgMD2Y2lKUI/AAAAAAAAABs/0zYzWVp_jE4/s320/IMG_2927.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;




&lt;div&gt;We had a Good News Dinner at our church on Sunday. We go to First Christian Church Disciples of Christ in Durant. Our bell choir performed for the first time. That's Zach 2nd from the left and me 4th from the left. The kids sang and it was really good, but a little long so their attention span didn't last quiet as long as the performance. Allison and Zachary are the ones in the center of the video most of the time.&lt;/div&gt;




&lt;p&gt;






&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-6a140cf69eae1e47" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;
&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;
&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;
&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v11.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D6a140cf69eae1e47%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331319824%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5981FB3D064E51D4C253B24D4AA74FAC55279EDE.276147E662382BD871BE16B07ACBA08878C42353%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D6a140cf69eae1e47%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DMcBJxJ9VWyhfWawc8mZUDXw_yas&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;
&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"
width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"
flashvars="flvurl=http://v11.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D6a140cf69eae1e47%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331319824%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5981FB3D064E51D4C253B24D4AA74FAC55279EDE.276147E662382BD871BE16B07ACBA08878C42353%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D6a140cf69eae1e47%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DMcBJxJ9VWyhfWawc8mZUDXw_yas&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"
allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;





&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-55eb77876b54e779" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;
&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;
&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;
&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v7.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D55eb77876b54e779%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331319824%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4A187295DC9A7E7975C23BB708BA84246988B2E6.7C84E134D63B379178C99C40448EA68D2FBB3B5C%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D55eb77876b54e779%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DCjDCZ8iyQoR8Ff5f_iIEdp0_W3o&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;
&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"
width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"
flashvars="flvurl=http://v7.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D55eb77876b54e779%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331319824%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4A187295DC9A7E7975C23BB708BA84246988B2E6.7C84E134D63B379178C99C40448EA68D2FBB3B5C%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D55eb77876b54e779%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DCjDCZ8iyQoR8Ff5f_iIEdp0_W3o&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"
allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;






&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-1752d857f7570e8f" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;
&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;
&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;
&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v8.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D1752d857f7570e8f%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331319824%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DD9568CD4C57824D8545C52581ADC2E0FC0310E0.12D9E22E03AEFE8A6E53D2A8C0038F504741461D%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D1752d857f7570e8f%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DopWh6Sfm10QPAlw22oGmRRDpDZQ&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;
&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"
width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"
flashvars="flvurl=http://v8.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D1752d857f7570e8f%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331319824%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DD9568CD4C57824D8545C52581ADC2E0FC0310E0.12D9E22E03AEFE8A6E53D2A8C0038F504741461D%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D1752d857f7570e8f%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DopWh6Sfm10QPAlw22oGmRRDpDZQ&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"
allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;





&lt;/p&gt;




&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-2093436484828313544?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=1752d857f7570e8f&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=55eb77876b54e779&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=6a140cf69eae1e47&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/2093436484828313544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=2093436484828313544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/2093436484828313544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/2093436484828313544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2009/05/good-news.html' title='Good News'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/SgMD2Y2lKUI/AAAAAAAAABs/0zYzWVp_jE4/s72-c/IMG_2927.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-5049578692815343691</id><published>2009-05-06T22:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T07:57:12.433-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Super Z</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/SgLaoRc6gCI/AAAAAAAAABc/eTmliDZbF9U/s1600-h/IMG_2782.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333065294174388258" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/SgLaoRc6gCI/AAAAAAAAABc/eTmliDZbF9U/s320/IMG_2782.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Today, Zachary did one of the funniest and most imaginative things he has done yet. We were picking up my grandma and had gotten out of the car at her house. I called her on the phone and asked her to open the garage door because we were there. As we were standing in front of the garage, it started to open. I looked over at Lil Z and he was standing there facing the garage door with his arm stretched straight in front of him, hand in a fist, with a look of intent consentration on his face. I asked him what he was doing and he told me "My opening the garage door." He was pretending to use his powers to open the garage door. What a little smarty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-5049578692815343691?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/5049578692815343691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=5049578692815343691' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/5049578692815343691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/5049578692815343691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2009/05/super-z.html' title='Super Z'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/SgLaoRc6gCI/AAAAAAAAABc/eTmliDZbF9U/s72-c/IMG_2782.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-4113619071143283221</id><published>2009-03-25T23:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T00:06:25.394-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Goes Around</title><content type='html'>So, my mom told us this hilarious story about how she and my grandma went to eat at this Chinese buffet and there wasn't a huge selection for desert, but she had gotten ice cream and then my grandma got up to get her desert and ended up with some sushi on her plate thinking it was a coconut roll. My mom thought this was so funny that my g-ma didn't know what sushi was that she actually let her taste it. My mom was laughing so hard at my grandma, she probably couldn't have told her if she wanted to. Anyway, my g-ma bit right into the sushi, knew immediately, it was not cake, and thought it tasted terribly. My mom comes home thinks this story is hilarious, which it is to hear her tell it, and procedes to tell it like 10x. Ok, so here is where karma comes into play and reminds us it's not nice to make fun of old people. We just got a second Braum's in town over on the west side. My mom pulls right up in the drive thru and orders a double dip hot fudge sundae with all the trimmings. The drive-thru operator says, "excuse me, ma'am." She tells him her order again. "Umm, I'm sorry, ma'am, we don't have those." Which is when my mom realized that she was in the Taco Bell drive thru next door. Bahahahahahaha! My mom was cracking up when she told this one on herself, too!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-4113619071143283221?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/4113619071143283221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=4113619071143283221' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/4113619071143283221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/4113619071143283221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2009/03/what-goes-around.html' title='What Goes Around'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-5561797470979254140</id><published>2009-03-20T23:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T23:50:07.468-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Alli and Lydia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/ScsJeI5clmI/AAAAAAAAABU/oY49ZPJARTE/s1600-h/alli+and+lydia.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317354198430160482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 175px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/ScsJeI5clmI/AAAAAAAAABU/oY49ZPJARTE/s320/alli+and+lydia.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Allison and Lydia have become fast friends. I think this is great. When I was growing up, I had my first friend that I remember doing things with. Actually, we did everything together. She was more like a sister than just a friend. And I am so grateful to have had her in my life. I can call on her today for just about anything. And then there are the friends that came later. I was a little confused at times in my choice for friends, but in the long run your true friends remain true. And, even if you don't talk to them for six months, the second you do, it is just like picking right back up where you left off. I am so thankful to have friends who have kids the same age as Alli and Zachary. It is so much fun to hang out with our friends and know that the kids are having a good time, too. When I was growing up, my mom was so much older than the parents of my friends that this wasn't the case. I take comfort in knowing that I KNOW the parents of the children my children will be spending the night with. It is amazing the things that are going on in this crazy world and I am so glad that we are friends with good, Christian families who have the same beliefs that we have. Actually, Lydia stayed all night with us last night. The girls had a great time applying make-up, playing dress up, and singing. Then they played baby dolls in the little house area that is set up behind our couch. When I was little, one of my mom's friends had a place behind her couch that was set up like a playhouse and that was one of my favorite places to play when I was little. I love those memories. So, I was hoping to create the same kind of memories for my kids. I am a little nostalgic. That is all. This is just some ramblings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-5561797470979254140?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/5561797470979254140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=5561797470979254140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/5561797470979254140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/5561797470979254140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2009/03/alli-and-lydia.html' title='Alli and Lydia'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/ScsJeI5clmI/AAAAAAAAABU/oY49ZPJARTE/s72-c/alli+and+lydia.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-8070228345080502427</id><published>2009-03-16T22:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T23:01:38.634-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ramblings</title><content type='html'>Today was a good day. It was Zach's day off. The last of a four day stretch he had due to Allison tonsil surgery. I got a lot done around the house, not that you can tell now, but I feel more productive than I have in a while. I got a contract on a listing. And then we had the Pierce's and my brother, Josh, over for dinner. We played a card game. It was fun, but I got mad because I was trying to get a run, when I only needed a set. Jared lost, or rather, had pulled out, his tooth. It made me cringe a little bit, but I now I better get used to it. It won't be too long until Alli is loosing her first tooth. I am tired now and too lazy to get up off the couch and get the remote or to see who just sent me a text.  Both the kids are in bed and I just really want to sit here and watch old episodes of &lt;em&gt;A&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;Haunting &lt;/em&gt;on the DVR.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-8070228345080502427?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/8070228345080502427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=8070228345080502427' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/8070228345080502427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/8070228345080502427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2009/03/ramblings.html' title='Ramblings'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-4377169362393703089</id><published>2009-03-16T08:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T08:37:53.707-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogging</title><content type='html'>So, I decided last night to get into this whole blogging thing on blogspot. I have been blogging for a long time on Myspace, but lately that site has been so boring. It's just not doing it for me. It's the same old people doing the same old stuff. Zach has had a blog for a while and suggested that I get one too. So when he took the plunge and got a facebook this week, I got a blogspot. Anyway, my poor page looked so bare, I decided to get some of my old blogs from Myspace. And I am super excited about blogging and reading my friends blogs on blogspot, too. Yea, me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-4377169362393703089?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/4377169362393703089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=4377169362393703089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/4377169362393703089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/4377169362393703089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2009/03/blogging.html' title='Blogging'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-4853295031469266950</id><published>2008-12-19T01:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:07:00.654-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter to Santa</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/Sb3sdOis94I/AAAAAAAAAAM/IOC4W-_S7UM/s1600-h/IMG_2686.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313663122231064450" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/Sb3sdOis94I/AAAAAAAAAAM/IOC4W-_S7UM/s320/IMG_2686.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Alli's letter to Santa
Dear Santa,
All I want for Christmas is make-up with some ear rings, three rings, two lipsticks, and lots of other stuff.
Love,
Allison&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-4853295031469266950?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/4853295031469266950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=4853295031469266950' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/4853295031469266950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/4853295031469266950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2008/12/letter-to-santa.html' title='Letter to Santa'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/Sb3sdOis94I/AAAAAAAAAAM/IOC4W-_S7UM/s72-c/IMG_2686.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-4026190523252130976</id><published>2008-12-08T00:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T00:59:50.512-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things That Get Lost</title><content type='html'>things that get lost

...my words

train of thought

hair

car keys

the remote control

minds

baby fat

dogs

tempers

virginity

nerve

races

battles

wars

loves

your way

socks

opportunities&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-4026190523252130976?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/4026190523252130976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=4026190523252130976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/4026190523252130976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/4026190523252130976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-get-lost.html' title='Things That Get Lost'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-4298342925500886991</id><published>2008-09-30T00:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:20:00.332-05:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day of School</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/Sb3vf2djszI/AAAAAAAAAAU/J1zpuMgr6Kw/s1600-h/IMG_2053.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313666465841525554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/Sb3vf2djszI/AAAAAAAAAAU/J1zpuMgr6Kw/s320/IMG_2053.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Allison starts school tomorrow. She is going to be in the 3 yr. old program. She is super stoked and I am too. I am also a little apprehensive as most parents are. I didn't think I would be because after working in the pre-K and mother's day out I saw that alot. The mom's that wouldn't leave or cried when they did. and I so don't want to be that mom, but she's my baby and she is starting a new school and I want to make sure she likes it. I am worried about her making friends, not wanting to take a nap, not liking lunch, having an accident, or just missing me or my mom. Huh? Guess we will just have to wait until in the morning and see how it goes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-4298342925500886991?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/4298342925500886991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=4298342925500886991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/4298342925500886991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/4298342925500886991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2008/09/first-day-of-school.html' title='First Day of School'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/Sb3vf2djszI/AAAAAAAAAAU/J1zpuMgr6Kw/s72-c/IMG_2053.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-3935064347294213880</id><published>2008-08-29T00:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T00:44:53.773-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fears</title><content type='html'>So, sometimes when I am thinking about it gravity freaks me out. Well, it's not the gravity that freaks me out, actually I'm a fan. It is the lack of gravity that bothers me. I remember in some science class where the teacher told us about how fast the earth is actually spinning and traveling. Well, I don't remember it well enough to be exact, but I remember it well enough to be glad I was inside. So, sometimes when I an thinking about it, I think about what would happen if gravity just stopped and we all went flying out into space. How we'd all go flying into space and die. I'm just imaging that first initial instant when it all took place. What would we be thinking before it was all over. I don't know its just weird to think about this force that holds us all down, makes us be able to walk around. Sometimes when I think about I get so freaked out I don't want to leave my house again, not that it would keep me from getting sucked off the face of the planet, but I feel safe here.

Also another thing that freaks me out, is how murderers come up for parole. If a person is found guilty of killing someone else why the heck should they get out of prison and get the chance do it again. Or may be they won't do it again, but why would we take that chance. I am talking about a person who made the choice to brutally take another persons life. How is this possible that a murder like this has the opportunity even to go before a parole board. I am not a supporter of eye for an eye, but I don't think they should get out of prison ever! It scares me and with my luck the crazy psycho murderer would move in next door.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-3935064347294213880?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/3935064347294213880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=3935064347294213880' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/3935064347294213880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/3935064347294213880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2008/08/fears.html' title='Fears'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-3946309186292685819</id><published>2008-08-12T00:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T13:22:21.049-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ongoing Blog Part 2</title><content type='html'>14. People who shake their heads at my kids for misbehaving. This make me pissed off. Tonight, I took my kids who had not had a nap today out to dinner by myself. I know that this may not have been the best idea, but a girls gotta eat. Now keeping in mind that my sleepy children might not be on their usual angel behavior, I did not pick one of the many upscale 5 star restaurants we have here in Durant, but instead picked a very family-friendly restaurant known for its great burgers and family atmosphere. We go here alot. Being that it is a Sunday night the joint was packed. While trying to get Zach's order over the phone, put my own order in and wrestle my kids, I got a little bit frusterated and chose to let my kids go stand in front of the claw machine and pretend they were winning toys. If you don't have kids yet, you will learn when you do, that sometimes it is just easier to pick your battles. It was after we got to the table that a woman sitting across the restaurant shook her head at Zachary JUST because he was standing on the table screaming as loud as he could that in a pitch was only a few pitches below one only a dog could hear. Actually, I am a pretty tough mom and although he did make it to the top of the table, he only got a little screach out before I had him in a head lock with my hand over his mouth. Here I am, out numbered and in public so you know I can't spank him or DHS would be hunting me down and maybe I didn't think he deserved a spanking, its not his fault he was delirious from lack of sleep. Kids all the time don't get into trouble for doing a lot worse. But here is this woman who doesn't know me, doesn't know my children, and doesn't care, she just thinks she is so cute sitting over there shaking her ugly head and pissing me off. Why do some people think they know so much more than anyone else.

15. People who think they know so much more than any one else.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-3946309186292685819?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/3946309186292685819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=3946309186292685819' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/3946309186292685819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/3946309186292685819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2008/08/ongoing-blog-part-2.html' title='Ongoing Blog Part 2'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-5289241887522708417</id><published>2008-08-05T00:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T09:04:00.065-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Allison</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/Sb3z2QoDKhI/AAAAAAAAABI/cC2SidLIWOM/s1600-h/IMG_1337.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313671248868485650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/Sb3z2QoDKhI/AAAAAAAAABI/cC2SidLIWOM/s320/IMG_1337.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div&gt;At the lake on Saturday, Alli came out of the water and was frantically looking for her alligator. She kept asking us "where is my alligator, where did my alligator go?" We looked and looked for her alligator for about 5 minutes thinking it was one of her sand toys. I asked her if she meant the penguin and she said "nooooo!" Frustrated, I told her I didn't think we had an alligator, but she was sure we did. So, I asked her what it looked like. She looked at me, got this I-can't-believe-you're-so-stupid look on her face and and said with her little attitude "Mom, it looks like juice!" She had been talking about the Gatorade we had been drinking! We laughed and laughed when we realized. And she has been calling it Alligator ever since!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-5289241887522708417?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/5289241887522708417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=5289241887522708417' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/5289241887522708417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/5289241887522708417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2008/08/allison.html' title='Allison'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/Sb3z2QoDKhI/AAAAAAAAABI/cC2SidLIWOM/s72-c/IMG_1337.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-2478766971117103704</id><published>2008-08-04T00:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T00:33:25.854-05:00</updated><title type='text'>An Ongoing Bog</title><content type='html'>1. My kids have learned to whine and do it all the time. When ever they don't get their way, even little Z, says "Pweeeze, Momma" over and over and over. It really pisses me off. I don't give in and they whine more, which leads to me spanking them.

2. People who call DHS when you spank your kids in Wal-mart. It hasn't happened to me but happened to a friend of mine and that really pisses me off. I should be able to spank my kid when he needs it, he's mine. I was spanked and I can tell you I am much better off for it. If I was spanked for something, you can bet I never did it again. What is this time out crap.

3. Why when you go to the beach, you end up bringing half of it home with you. I just swept my kitchen and right there on the floor was enough of West Burns Run to fill my kids sandbox. This pisses me off a little. I hate to see what I find in the entry and the van.

4. People who say "You drive a van!?!" Man, that pisses me off. Yes I drive a vary nice Dodge Grand Caravan of my choosing. I got it for my birthday last year, and I love it. In my opinion, I am one hot mini-van momma! And I love scaring people who are standing close to it when I open my doors with the remote. I can also tote a ton of girls around for girls night out which is also a plus! So be warned the next person who gets that look on their face and say with disgust "A van, Huh?!?" is probably going to get punched in the mouth.

5. People who lie. People who say what they think you want to hear to get what they want. This pisses me off. I asked someone a question about a house and they lied, knowing full well they lied. My client bought the house, only to find out about this little lie a little too late. Let's see how the liar likes the lawsuit.

6. Campaign commercials piss me off. No reason other than they bug me!

7. I know I have mentioned this before, but the fact that I have like a million t.v. channels and still nothing is on pisses me off and is actually pissing me off right now. I am steamed!

8. Bad drivers piss me off. I almost was in a wreck early tonight because some man just pulled out in front of me. IDKY he pulled out in front of me maybe he didn't see me. People who need to get their eyes checked piss me off.

9. And those dreams piss me off. You know the ones about things and people you should not be dreaming about and those dreams that seem so real, when you wake up and realize they aren't and you're back to your old messy house and you're own life. It pisses me off.

10. When the power goes out and the DVR has to completely reset itself really pisses me off. Especially when it happens so often.

11. The people next door have let their grass grow to like 4 ft. and that really really pisses me off. They don't live there anymore and it is on the market and if they aren't going to mow it, I don't think it will ever sell. Actually, the fact that it is even there kind of...no, it extremely pisses me off.

12. and 13. See Wednesday, Aug. 6th

TBC&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-2478766971117103704?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/2478766971117103704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=2478766971117103704' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/2478766971117103704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/2478766971117103704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2008/08/ongoing-bog.html' title='An Ongoing Bog'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-6900836069427183158</id><published>2008-04-04T00:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T00:28:02.396-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Whole New Meaning To a Button Nose</title><content type='html'>I was at a meeting tonight and one of our friends said let me see your phone. At that exact moment it started ringing, so I just handed it to him and told him it was Zach who was calling. He stepped out into the hall and talked to Zach for a second and then called me out into the hall. That is when I realized that something was wrong. Zach told me that Alli had justed informed him that she was sick. When he asked her why she thought she was sick she said it was because she stuck a button up her nose. He asked me to come home immediately so we could decide what we should do. So when I got home, I made Alli come and sit down in front of me and tell me what she did. She said "I stuck a button up my nose." This made me feel terrible because before I left I had seen the button on the floor and didn’t take the time to pick it up. So, I said to Zach that I had seen it and he told me that he picked that button up right after I left, but she must have found another one. So I asked her to show me exactly where she got the button. She walked straight into the other room and picked up a little tiny ziplock bag, the kind that buttons come in when they are attached to a new shirt. This made me believe that she had in fact stuck a button up her nose. So I quickly got on the phone and called the best doctor I know. He told me he would meet us and take a look at her. After he took a look, he told us she must have gone ahead and swallowed it, but that she had swelling in her nose so she probably did put a button in. She was really good to let everyone look in her nose, because she thought she would be getting a sucker when it was all over. I told her she better not ever stick anything in any part of her head again and that she is gounded until she is six! What a night! Also, I would like to add that Allison’s nose was probably the first nose that this great doctor has looked at in a long time, he is the doctor who delivered her!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-6900836069427183158?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/6900836069427183158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=6900836069427183158' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/6900836069427183158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/6900836069427183158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2008/04/whole-new-meaning-to-button-nose.html' title='A Whole New Meaning To a Button Nose'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-3395784002471786717</id><published>2008-02-09T00:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T00:24:41.321-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Telemarketers</title><content type='html'>At 8:45 tonight, the phone rang. I answered and on the other end was a man. "Hello, Miss Jorgenson. This is Randall with Windom Resorts. A while back you stayed at The Fairfield Resort in Branson, MS. And Windom has now taken that over.....blah,blah,blah....." So when he finally stopped talking to catch his breath I potitely said "You know it's a little late to be calling about this. Would you be able to call be during the day?" He got so mad and became rude telling me he would have to see what he could do and then trailed off and hung up on me. HE, the man who appears to be wanting to sell me something, hung up on ME. I was polite enough to ask him to call back during the day. I could have told him never to call my home again or I would hunt him down and make him pay for every unwanted sales call he ever made, but I didn't. I was genuinely interested in him calling me back when I wasn't in the middle of putting my kids to sleep, but he screwed that up. Next time maybe I will take the hunting them down approach and see if that works any better. Whatever you fo if Randall calls don't buy what he's selling!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-3395784002471786717?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/3395784002471786717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=3395784002471786717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/3395784002471786717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/3395784002471786717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2008/02/telemarketers.html' title='Telemarketers'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-712581349633638098</id><published>2008-01-07T00:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T00:18:46.046-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Voices</title><content type='html'>So, I was thinking isn't it funny how when a person gets a letter from someone, the person who is reading the letter reads it in the person who sent its voice. Did you follow that? For example, I got a message from my old friend, Melissa, today and when I read it, even though we haven't actually spoken in person or by phone for quite sometime, I read this message with her voice in my head. You know like they do on soap operas when the reader would not actually be reading aloud but it is important for the audience to hear so the "writer" of the letter does a voice over. So, then I began to think maybe no one else does this and that I am a little bit strange because of this, but then iIasked Zach and he said sometimes he does it too. So then that made me think about how a persons voice stays with me forever. All I have to do is think of anyone and I can hear their voice in my head. so i have been thinking of random people all day to see if I can "hear" their voice. I have thought of my fourth grade teacher, Allison, a lot of family members, a few celebs, Erin, Wina, Josh, basically as I think their name their voice comes into my head. I am glad to know I have this super power, because now all I want to do is think of my dad's voice. This is the point. My dad had the best speaking voice, it was pretty deep and a little rough, and so warm most of the time. And, now that he is gone and I have so little of him to hold on to, I am so thankful that all I have to do is think of him and that voice is there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-712581349633638098?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/712581349633638098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=712581349633638098' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/712581349633638098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/712581349633638098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2008/01/voices.html' title='Voices'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-7177921462023274374</id><published>2007-10-21T10:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:45:20.313-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Really Dramatic Post</title><content type='html'>(I am going to pretty dramatic right now so if you know me read this in my voice, and I think it will be a lot more effective.) Okay, so last night we went to the Monster Mayhem Big truck show at Choctaw Coliseum. We like to engage in a little hillbilly activity now and then. It was just Zach, Allison and me, we left Zachary at home with Mom. Probably everyone has heard by now, but 4,000 peoples lives were endangered when some "fool" decided it was a good idea to back his jet engined 4-wheeler up to several junked vehicles. Needless, to say it was not, they caught on fire and the 4,000 people inside the coliseum were left to scramble for the nearest exit when told, as best as I can remember, to "Get out of here!" Now I am not sure if that was the emcee who said "Get out of here" or one of the many spectators who had already realized this was not part of the show. My family and I had started for the exits ourselves, as had many others, when the thick black smoke started to come back down towards the people with pieces of fabric in it from one of the junked vehicles. I will however say that I thought the evacuation went pretty well, although we were one of the first out of the building and I didn't see what was going on inside. Big thanks to Zach for showing us the nearest exit ( I was heading for the long way.) So here is my thought process: Zach and I both told each other we felt the heat of the jet-engine when the driver cranked it and I thought "glad we aren't closer." Then as the driver backed closer and closer to the vehicles I thought "where are the fire extinguishers?" So at that point I looked at my cousin (who was sitting behind us and actually is a boss at the Choctaw Casino and Resort) I detected a look of extreme pissedness, uncertainty, and well... mainly pissedness, for lack of a better word. I returned my focus back to the center of the arena and saw the enormous pillar of white smoke and once again thought this place is going to be really smoky for the rest of the show, where are the fire extinguishers? It was then I turned to look back at my cousin who was now standing up and very RED, but my gaze did not stop there. My eyes were averted to a lady trying to get her 3 kids down the stairs with a look of panic in her eyes. She was scared!!! I looked back at what was once a giant pillar of white smoke to see that it had turn black and was following the line of the ceiling directly back down on all of us who were sittling in the stands.That is when I immediately stood up and said "Come On Lets Go!" Zach who at this point still had on earplugs (we weren't willing to lose our hearing at a Big Truck Show) said "Are you saying we should go?) I nodded a big YES and we headed for the nearest staircase down out of the coliseum, before we reached it is when I heard the announcer say to leave, it is possible he said something like "Everyone exit the building right now!" or "Everyone get out of here right now" I am not sure. All I now is that whatever he said worked because everyone was to their feet and getting out. Zach said he fear mass-pandimonium, (sorry spelling, sound it out.) The news said it took 6 minutes for the evacuation. This is where I feel a little upset. The news at first said it started "when the driver was doing donuts, nothing out of the ordinary" and then later on a represntative said the fire started when the 4- wheeler driver was finishing up what he was doing. Yeah, he finshed up alright! Where did HE go? Did he mean to ruin my night? Was he questioned as to what he was thinking and why he didn't stop what he was doing even after several men who were on the floor were motioning for him to stop? Is he or the company who books him going to be held responsible for the damage to the coliseum and sound system? Or for putting us all in harms way? Not to mention the security guards who are suffering from smoke inhalation because they stayed inside to make sure HIS actions had not hurt anyone. He should have been taken away in hand cuffs! Okay, I'm done with my ranting now. I do have to say it made for and exciting end of the night, but I would have perferred to watch the rest of the show and they said all tickets would be refunded on Monday. Aarrggg!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-7177921462023274374?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/7177921462023274374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=7177921462023274374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/7177921462023274374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/7177921462023274374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2007/10/really-dramatic-post.html' title='A Really Dramatic Post'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-7842043410996495338</id><published>2006-09-05T01:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T00:03:55.137-05:00</updated><title type='text'>An Old Post From Myspace</title><content type='html'>Why You Haven't Heard From Me
I'll start from the beginning. I had my regularly scheduled Dr.'s appt. on Tues. where I told my Dr. I have been having some strange pressure in my head. I asked him if I could have an aneurysm. He asked me if I had experienced any numbness in my hands or feet. At that time I had not, so he said I was fine and if I had any problems to call him. The pressure continued, but I felted at ease because of the conversation with my Dr. About 4:00 AM on Fri. morning, I woke up and my hand was asleep. I figured it was just the way I was sleeping and rolled over and went back to sleep. At 8, Alli woke up crying, I stumbled out of bed and into her room. The second I tried to pick her up I knew something was wrong. I could not fill the entire right side of my body. My face, arm, and leg were numb and tingling. I immediately thought I was going to die, but I was trying to be rational. I waited a little while to see if my body was going to wake up, but it didn't. I picked up the phone and tried to dial the Dr's office. I say I tried to dial because although I knew the number in my head I could not make my fingers dial the correct number. Finally, after several tries I was successful. I told the nurse what was going on and she kept telling me she could not understand me. It was later that I realized why she was having such a hard time. I told her all of my symptoms and she told me all she could tell me was to come in. I woke up the family and we all got ready. By this time I was vomitting. We made it to the Dr.'s office and they took me back, where I told them I was in "Palain" and was having a terrible "hardache" and I was a little "complused, um what's the word?" Oh my goodness, I could hear myself talking this gibberish and I couldn't make it be right? I knew the words were coming out wrong and I couldn't make it right? I was so scared, I started sobbing and the Doc put me through some test, squeazing his hand, and holding up objects to see if I could name them. After that, they went to get Zach from the waiting room and the nurses watched the kids while the Doc told us it could be serious and I needed a cat scan right away. We went straight to the hosptital, I called Mom to come get the kids, and I sat there in fear until they called me back for the test, with frequent trips to the bathroom to throw up. As soon as the cat scan was over, they had a Dr. read it. They found nothing, the scan was normal. Praise God! But what is happening to me? I started to walk out of the hospital and called my doc back, they told me to go back in they were admitting me right away, I was to sick to go home, but they weren't sure what was wrong. They put me in a room, hooked all sorts of tubes up to me and began running blood work. I went to sleep, I slept all day with the occasional visit from my new team of Docs. The longer I slept the better my speech became and the vommitting stopped, the pain in my head eased up some and everyone decided that I had sufferred an A-typical migrain. They wanted me to stick around for a while so they could watch me and more blood work was ordered just to be sure. The pain in my head had started to come back when one of the nurses asked me if she could get me anything. I told her I would take something for my head pain. When she finally brought it back she told me that it would make me sleep. It did not make me sleep, in fact it gave me a panic attack, right there in the hospital. After that episode was over, my origianal Dr. came in and I asked to just go home. It was the scariest day of my life. The next day Mom came over to help with the kids, where I did finally feel the effects of that last injection and slept all day. Sat. night we decided that we had not had enough excitement this weekend and headed to OKC to help my brother-in law and sis-in law move into there new house. And that is why you haven't heard from me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-7842043410996495338?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/7842043410996495338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=7842043410996495338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/7842043410996495338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/7842043410996495338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2006/09/old-post-from-myspace.html' title='An Old Post From Myspace'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649652826442134942.post-4275632511597444846</id><published>2003-09-10T00:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T00:50:46.139-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things That Piss Me Off 3</title><content type='html'>People who jump to conclusions.

People who lie and lie and lie. Some people lie so much they start to believe their own lies and this pisses me off.

Rainy days when I have to be up and around.

Coffee that is made way too strong.

People who are jealous, myself included.

Know  it alls who tell me I need to wash my kids face in Braum's when he just got finished eating a chocolate ice cream.

Fake friends, this one also pisses me off on Janette's behalf as well.

People who think they are entitled to anything and everything on nothing but their name. Guess what, your value is not greater than my value as a human being. So piss off.

Bad drivers and hunger.
TBC&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3649652826442134942-4275632511597444846?l=jolijorgenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/feeds/4275632511597444846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3649652826442134942&amp;postID=4275632511597444846' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/4275632511597444846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3649652826442134942/posts/default/4275632511597444846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jolijorgenson.blogspot.com/2003/09/things-that-piss-me-off-3.html' title='Things That Piss Me Off 3'/><author><name>Joli Jorgenson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06814441497192654692</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yZYcBtDN5qQ/S2kApoi8OSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/K8En0vO782g/S220/collage1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
